


Run, rabbit, run.

by MadDogMajima



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gore, M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-03-22 05:02:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadDogMajima/pseuds/MadDogMajima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When life goes wrong and I need to vent, I inflict pain on fictional characters. When I feel the need to explore some of my worst kinks in written form, I do the same.</p><p>This story will consist mainly of unlinked chapters that have nothing in common except for the main characters and their respective roles. While I'm trying to add a little more plot with each chapter, this is not my main goal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Run, Rabbit, Run

**Author's Note:**

> As always, English is not my first language, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every human being, even the most abiding, will very gladly turn into a sadistic monster if they’re sure they’ll be granted immunity.  
> And when a human being just needs to hurt somebody and has a huge amount of money to spare, this may happen.
> 
> You just got unlucky and ended up on the wrong side, boy.

His scream echoed in the empty alley. 

«Can anybody hear me? Please? Please! Where am I?» 

There was no answer, just the rustling of dry leaves on concrete. The boy looked up, but no one had heard his call, or no one had bothered to peek out of the windows. The buildings remained silent, in ruins. 

The sprint and the scream had left him panting, leaning on the uneven and hot wall. Drops of sweat fell from his forehead and tickled his throat. 

But at least that man was nowhere to be seen. 

«Please? Why am I here?» 

He moved a step forward, then two, then three. The setting sun hit his eyes and sent a jolt of pain to his brain. 

«Please…» he croaked «Where...» 

The square was empty, cracked concrete and more cracked concrete, still burning hot from the afternoon heat wave. The boy wiped the sweat away from his eyebrows. It didn’t matter how far away he looked, the rows of building beyond were neverending, grey and dead. 

He touched his throat. Thirst. All the water in his body had to be drenching his clothes right now, his tongue was dry and his head was pounding, following the ryhthm of his heart. 

He fell to his knees and didn’t feel any pain. 

«Any-Anybody…» 

The gunshot left him deaf from his right hear. The bullet lost its power and fell down with a _cling_ somewhere in the middle of the square. He grabbed his ear, but the loud whistle didn’t stop. 

The man was there, merely ten feet away from him, clad in his black suit, unfazed by the heat. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the boy, eyes half-closed and lips deformed in an unnerving smirk. In his right hand, a gun; his index finger still on the trigger. 

The boy stood still, paralyzed in fear. He was sure he’d run fast and long anough to leave him behind. His aching lungs and sore muscles told him he had. But the stranger’s unperturbed young face and impeccable composure told another story. Just the blond hair moved gently in the hot breeze. 

He took a deep breath, got back on his feet and run. 

The rows of buildings grew closer, as his legs sprinted towards them. He could lose the man again in that maze, he was sure of that. Just a few more feet and there would be walls to separate them. 

At first, he thought he’d tripped over one of the cracks, and cursed himself for his own stupidity. 

He fell down on his side, scraped his hip and his left arm on rough concrete. A sharp pebble hit his nose, leaving him confused in pain. He gritted his teeth and moaned. 

_Stand up again, idiot, stand up and keep running, faster this time!_

Maybe over there, between the debris, behind the broken windows, inside the silent buildings there was someone ready to help him, maybe… 

He collapsed on the ground again and only then his eyes caught the deep red patch that stained his jeans on the back of his knee. Only then his brain became aware of the scorching agony that was spreading throughout his body. 

The boy hadn’t even heard the noise, but now a bullet was there. Every slight movement of the leg sent jolts of pain to every inch of his body and made him scream. Before he knew what was happening, hot tears were falling down his cheeks onto the ground, and broken sobs came up from his throat. 

«Fuck!» he cried out «FUCK!» 

_Tap tap tap_

The man’s footsteps approached, loud and clear even for the boy’s damaged, ringing ears. On his bruised forearms he crawled ahead, trying to forget he had a wounded leg that hurt like hell. 

A foot stomped on his back «Put an end to your pathetic escape attempts, would you?» 

The boy hit his chin on the concrete and bit his tongue. A kick in the ribs turned him on his back. He coughed and spat out blood, that fell down on his face and burned his eyes: his tongue was still bleeding profusely when he understood he’d better swallow than spit. 

«Fuck… you.» he muttered. 

The man pressed the barrel of the gun to his crushed kneecap «Go on, amuse me.» 

The boy spat a mix of blood and saliva in his direction, but all he gained was feeling the cold metal pressed harder. He felt it _dig_ through the bone shards. All he managed to do was lie down on his back, as still as he could, and hope the man didn’t feel like going deeper. 

He was crouched beside the boy, the gun in one hand and the lit cigarette in the other. His little finger was up in the air and made circular, clockwise movements. 

«W-why…?» the boy sputtered the mix of blood and saliva «Why are you...» a stab of pain kept him from talking further , and he gasped for air. 

He heard a snicker «Because it’s fun.» the man pressed harder on his wound «Watching you...» harder «Squirm in pain.» 

The boy’s knee was by now a shapeless mess of bone, blood and pain. He clenched his fists and tried not to scream. 

«Oh, go on.» the stranger kept dragging on his cigarette. He sounded bored «It’s not like cavalry is coming to your rescue anytime soon.» 

«Fuck you! Why are we here? Why did you-» his cry pierced the air, as the cigarette met its end on the inner part of his elbow. 

«This is more like what I had in mind.» 

The boy was left breathless. The burnt agony of his delicate skin kept sucking out of his lungs the air he was so desperately trying to keep in. He was _sure_ he had heard his own blood sizzle. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was nothing more than a whimper. 

The stranger had now a free hand, which he used to lift the other’s arm. Without a care in the world (and that annoying little finger always up), he caressed the boy’s index finger. 

«Stop… Stop whatever you’re planning or...» 

«Or what? What are you going to do? Kill me?» 

He expected a laugh. Something that could tell the boy he was facing a comic book sort of villain, a laughing maniac. 

Nothing. 

Just an annoying half smile and the same cold composure. While the boy’s face and clothes were a wet mess of sweat, the man was unaffected the heat, the black suit and the white shirt had not even a trace of wrinkles. His presence was almost unreal. A mirage in the urban desert. 

Until the boy’s finger snapped. 

The scream died in his throat, but his whole body was shaken. Then, finally, a sob escaped. New, hotter tears dripped from his eyes. He wanted to look, but his brain wouldn’t let him. The fingertip touched the back of the hand now, dangling back and forth, lifeless. 

«Such a nice noise, you know.» suddenly, it was his thumb’s turn to be surrounded by the freezing cold fingers of the stranger «I want to hear it again.» 

«No! No no no n-» 

_Snap_

His plea faded to a scream, the _o_ turned into an _a_ for a good thirty seconds before finally going silent. Unable to keep his cracked lips shut, the boy moaned. 

«Did that hurt? I think there’s someone on Mars who hasn’t heard you yet.» 

«Fuck off!» the boy was so desperate to sound intimidating, but even to his own ears he was only pathetically wimpering «Why? Why are you doing this?» 

«Because» the smile on the man’s face faded, an annoyed expression took its place and the boy shivered. Last time the stranger was pissed off, he gained a bullet and a shattered knee. 

«...because?» he couldn’t keep his eyes off the gun, that was now spinning around the man’s finger. 

«Because every human being, even the most abiding, will very gladly turn into a sadistic monster if they’re sure they’ll be granted immunity. And well, when sometimes you just _need_ to hurt somebody very, very bad and you have a very, very huge amount of money to spare...» 

«What the fuck are you talking about?» he had to fight against his dry throat. Every word burned like hell. 

«I’m _thowrkin_ about the fact that no one is coming to your rescue because I paid for these precious moments with you, kid.» that smirk, again «You’re mine until the end.» 

To make sure his messaged seeped through, the man took the boy’s broken thumb and twisted it. 

«What the fuck?» by now, he was crying «What the fuck do you mean, until the end?» 

He already knew. But that couldn’t be, that couldn’t... 

«Until your heart stops beating. Or until I get tired and decide to lodge a bullet in your brain to accelerate the process.» 

Like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. 

The boy was past the point of caring about the pain now, or the irrecoverable knee, of the broken fingers. He pulled away from the man and crawled for his life, while the scorching heat of the concrete floor flayed his skin. That man was lying, for sure, there was no way anyone would let that happen! He just wanted to prevent him from seeking help! Because he knew someone was on the other side of the square! 

Another gunshot. Suddenly, his whole arm was on fire. 

He twitched on the ground, holding the injured wrist with what was left of the other hand. Trails of blood escaped through his broken fingers, joined the dusty grazes on his forearm and burned like red-hot needles. 

«Would you kindly stop with your pathetic escape plans?» 

«FUCK YOU!» cried the boy, his sight occluded by tears «Who-who the fuck do you think you are? You’re not gonna get away with-» 

«Actually, yes.» 

«They’ll know I’m missing! They’ll look for me!» 

« _They_? Who, pray tell?» 

«My... family? My fam- my… fam-» 

He tried to conjur familiar faces into his mind. Other human beings that didn’t share the stranger’s face, or hair, of clothing. There had to be a mother, somewhere, a father! There had to be! Another man, another woman… what was a woman like? He couldn’t remember. 

He curled on the ground when the headache struck. Nothing. Everything was just heat, concrete, and the blond stranger’s cold grin. 

«Why? Why can’t I remember? What did you do to me?» 

«Fascinating. You all don’t usually show this level of self awareness.» the man stared at him, as he was some kind of laboratory specimen «All you usually do is cry and beg.» 

«You all who? Why? Why can’t I remember anything?» 

«It’s strictly business, but I guess I can tell you. It’s not like you can run anywhere out of my grip.» he smiled, but his eyes remained cold. The boy looked up at him, almost blinded by the sun, now lower on the horizon. 

«Tell me!» he bit his dry lower lip, not expecting blood to come out as soon as his teeth hit the skin. 

«It’s not like you can’t remember.» the stranger used the barrel of the gun to lift the boy’s chin up. A drop of blood fell on the shiny metal. «It’s more like you hadn’t any memory of your own to begin with. All you were instructed to do was run for your life and beg for it when the right moment came.» 

The whole world turned cold. 

«What? I...» he spat blood «I don’t understand.» 

«You were created in a laboratory for the sole purpose of being the pastime of respectable people like me. To run, be caught, feel pain, beg and eventually die.» 

The boy shook his head in disbelief «You’re wrong!» 

«Does it matter?» the man stomped his foot on the wounded wrist and pressed down. The bones shattered, the hand fell lifeless on the ground. The boy tried to move it, but felt excruciating pain and nothing else. None of the fingers lifted. 

«Does it matter, if I’m wrong or right? You’re going to die either way. With your doubts.» 

«Shut up! I’m not going to die, I’m not-» 

Cold metal brushed against the back of his head «...going to die...» 

The boy was shivering, even though the concrete had blistered his forearms and face. He felt cold. The thirst was gone. His mind attmpted once again to remember. Something, anything, from the past. From before he found himself in the scorching heat of the city in ruins. Before the fear of the young man in a suit was the sole content of his heart and brain. 

But nothing came up. The more he tried, the more intense his headache became. His head was empty, a black vessel to be filled with pain and fear. 

«Please...» he huddled up. Beneath him, a pool of blood, skin and bone. He huddled up, incapable of sending away the cold. «I don’t want to die.» 

«But this day is the reason you were born. The meaning of your whole life, kid.» 

«I don’t care! Please, please! I don’t want to die! I… I’ll do anything! Anything?» 

«I’m afraid it’s the policy. They have to dispose of the item, I get a fine. A live item is quite an issue to take care of, when you have no interest in killing it.» 

«I am not… not an it. Please. Please let me go.» 

«It will be quick, kid. You’re already a goner.» 

«I’m not.» the boy muttered. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. Suddenly, sleeping was a nice option, even with hard ground under his body. He looked at the gory mess that was once his hand. The pain was fading, it didn’t feel like his own hand anymore. Nor his own knee. His vision was blurred by tears, he could barely see the man’s blood stained shoes. 

He didn’t even hear the gunshot. 

\- 

She opened her eyes wide, and was greeted with the familiar dark green of the ceiling. 

Her chest went up and down, her pulse so intense she feared her heart was going to break through the ribcage. The girl didn’t know for how long she’d been panting, but now the lump of saliva she was trying to swallow scraped her throat like sandpaper. 

Every muscle in her body, sore and tense, spasmed at irregular intervals. She curled her toes and let the orgasm aftermath fade away with the last jolts of pain. 

She felt cold, now, the pistachio colored vest had darker patches of sweat strewn all over it, while salty drops tickled her naked legs and arms. 

_Your Simulated Experience has ended. Please remove your Simulation Assistants._

It took her weakened fingers a little bit more effort than she expected, to tear the loosely glued disks off her temples. She stood up and was grateful for the armchair support. 

_A shower room has been provided for your comfort. Please feel free to use it to your heart’s content._

The girl left the vest on the armchair and threw herself in the steaming hot water flow. Grateful for the wooden stool in a corner of the shower, she let the hot water wash away the sweat and the weariness that still lingered even when the pain had long gone. 

Hot air started blowing as soon as she set her foot outside the shower cabin. In a couple of minutes, her skin was dry and her hair was a puffy mess of curls. 

An attendant had her clother folded neatly on the pistachio cushion of another armchair. It was almost a pity to destroy such a work of art, but she couldn’t really go back home naked. 

_Please find the Questionnaire on the table beside the exit door. Your feedback will be of the utmost importance to offer our customers the very best Simulated Experience._

As always, the dimly lit e-ink screen tablet was waiting for her at the desk. It was connected to a black cable that disappeared into a hole in the wall. 

The girl spun the turquoise capacitive pen around her fingers. The form hadn’t changed since last time she had been there. 

_On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most positive, has the Simulated Environment met your expectations? Would you like to add any additional detail?_

_On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most positive, has the Simulated Experience met your expectations? Would you like to add any additional detail?_

_On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the most positive, has/have your Simulation Partner/s met your expectations? Would you like to add any additional detail?_

_Would you like to add them to your list of Priority Simulation Partner/s? They will be notified only if they choose to add you to their own list of Priority Simulation Partners. Please remember that the privacy policy of Simulated Technology Inc. does not allow the disclosure of personal information about its clients._

The answer was obvious: _Yes_. 

She didn’t know who was behind the Double asm2043, she wasn’t even all that interested. The thought of his manic look and the evil smile were enough to make her legs quiver in anticipation once again. The real person could be an old drooly guy, for all that mattered, she didn’t care. 

The girl hoped whoever was behind him wasn’t just an occasional patron. And that they were satisfied by her own Double’s performance. 

She pressed the _Submit_ button and waited for the summary to show up on the screen. First, there was her Simulation Assigned Name, _fnd90615_ , then a render of her avatar. 

_Would you like to apport any changes to your Simulation Double?_

She looked at his tanned skin, the dark, thick hair, the deep blue eyes, open wide, full of fear, and pushed _No_. 

_Would you like to send a request for the same Simulated Experience? Your Priority Simulation Partners will be notified._

She pressed _Yes_ without even giving it a second thought, then _Submit_. 

_Thank you for your feedback. You can change the details of the next Simulated Experience, as well as edit your Simulation Double and/or suggest a new Simulation scenario at any time time from you Private Account at http://www.stechnology.com/login._

The pre-recorded voice filled the room once again. 

_Thank you for your time. We see your Simulated Experience was tagged as Violent, and contained an underage avatar, torture and an in-simulation death. If you need to talk about your Simulated Experience or seek psychological support, please inform our attendants at the reception._

A _click_ announced the wooden door was now open. 


	2. Freakshow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You should never trust invitations to sketchy nightclubs, especially those handed out by strangers, if you're not ready to face the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a new low for me. Or... a new high?
> 
> This is undoubtedly the most violent, disturbing and gorey thing I've ever written, I admit I was temped to give up more than once because I was at times too freaked out by my own mind to keep writing. However, here it is! 
> 
> I still have little to no intention to turn this into a full fledged story, but I admit I enjoyed writing the beginning and the end of this chapter, so who knows.
> 
> As always, not native speaker blah blah blah, any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

«Tell me your secret.»

The girl’s grip on the spoon tightened «What secret?»

Her friend stood up and patted her on the shoulders, laughing «No, not the top secret ingredient for your curry rice. That, I would never dare.»

«You would have been terminated for your insolence.» she hoped her friend didn’t notice how awkward and fake her laugh sounded «On the spot.»

«I mean. You know. You’re always so relaxed when you come out of your mind trips. It looks like you’re a different person. You go in, as tense as a violin string played by an idiot, the day before an exam or a presentation, and come out all fine and dandy, ready to kick the world’s ass.»

«I never knew it looked so obvious.» she feigned indifference, eyes fixed on the bunny shape of her cappuccino foam.

«Clear as day. So, like, you know how I am.»

«You can’t help but snoop around and won’t stop until that godawful colored slop brings you to an early grave.»

«It’s called analysis oriented investigation.» her friend took a noisy sip «And I’ll be a wonderfully fit corpse, they will not cremate me and keep me as the funeral department mascotte.»

«You’re disgusting, you know that?»

«Whatever. So, tell me! What’s the secret? What are your simulations about? I want to send a similar request, too!»

Confused scenes flew behind her eyes, one after the other, scrambled frames from countless movies with different setting and plots but the same two actors and the same outcome.

The girl felt once again the sharp pain of a knife between her shoulder blades, the kick of a steel toed boot against her breastbone, saw her arm (or, better, the boy’s arm), burnt until the skin cracked by a lighter during the course of several, agonizing hours, felt what it was like to be blind and helpless, eyes poked out with a red-hot iron needle. Always under the unforgiving stare of the fair haired man.

She bit her lower lip.

«Just pretty normal intercourse.» she dumped two whole cane sugar sachets in her cappuccino and stirred, nervous «You know, with a beautiful avatar more or less my age. Sweet, loving, knows exactly what to do to please me… That kind of stuff.»

It was not a complete and utter lie, but her friend wouldn’t even begin to fathom _how_ that man was able to please her. Or what was normal to her.

Her friend gazed at her, eyelids half closed. The girl held her breath. «Just as I imagined. You’ve got pretty average tastes. It’s not hard at all for you to find a partner, is it?»

«Yeah, I know. I must look so boring to you right now.» she giggled, happy that the answer had satisfied the other girl or at least made her desist from wanting to know more.

«So...» her friend scanned her with curious eyes «A boy, a girl, or what?»

«A boy.»

He was older than her avatar, for sure, but he could not be older than her, even though his manner, his composure and his cold cruelty would be more appropriate for an older, experienced man than for a twenty-closer-to-thirty-than-to-nineteen years old.

But worrying about the real person behind the avatar was pointless, as there was no chance to meet in real life whoever had created it.

«A BOY?! Please tell me you’ve made a mistake.»

«Last time I checked, he was surely a boy.»

«Oh, damn. I swear I-»

«You bet on the wrong horse?» she laughed «Tell me why you were so sure, and with whom you bet, or I’ll tell the dean who spread that virus over the Uni’s whole system. The one with the kittens and the happy jingle»

«Don’t you-»

«Try me.»

«Ok, ok. Aleixo.» she stirred her protein shake with the green straw «And I’ve never seen you interested in boys. Not in the ‘I wanna date you and snuggle all Sunday long’ kind of way, I mean. Something more than a simulation with an avatar.»

«I’m more interested in getting that Master’s Degree than having a boyfriend. And avatars won’t infect you with STDs or be hungover the morning after.»

«I get your point.» her friend nibbled at the decorative strawberry «Will you be there this evening? A speech before part of the government’s IT security team looks stressing enough.»

She thought about what she had prompted as a suggestion for the following simulation. What her simulation partner had accepted no more than two hours later.

«Tell me about it.»

_That company will send you right to the psych ward._

-

The boy held the invitation, once a fine piece of calligraphy art, tight. The crumpled paper tickled the palm of his left hand.

The air was chilly that night; the nightclub and its discreet neon lights seemed the only source of heat. He shivered, and looked up, in the direction the light was coming from.

 _R3_ , said the flickering sign. For what he knew, it was a place all the _good people_ enjoyed being seen in. Reputation, and all that bullshit. Nothing he cared about.

But still, he was there with an invitation that looked like it was suffering every time he moved his fingers.

«May I see your invitation, Sir?»

He had reached the entrance, and what had to be a bodyguard in a formal black suit was performing a full x-ray examination on him.

«What? Oh, yes. Here it is.»

The blond man peeked at the crumbled paper with his left eyebrow raised. The boy suddenly felt ashamed about how he had been treating that poor object.

He wrote something on the invitation then handed it back «Please, enjoy your stay.»

The man smiled, and there was something unnerving about it, even though he seemed harmless enough. The boy was unable to dismiss the penetrating gaze that, he was sure, was following him as he entered the nightclub.

_You're just paranoid._

He expected a quiet place, wooden tables, a few candles here and there, everything for a cozy and comfortable evening to show off one's money and success. Instead, unlike what the sign and the general appearance of the place suggested, the nightclub was roaring with chaotic activity.

Or, chaotic activity was what he saw between seconds of darkness, when the strobe light illuminated the crowded dance floor.

_Just the perfect recipe for an headache._

The boy tucked the invitation in the front pocket of his jeans. He was grateful for the light, or lack of thereof, because it was obvious from the moment he got in that he was severely underdressed: jeans and a long sleeved black shirt against tuxedos, long dresses and high heels. Fortunately, none of the other patrons seemed to notice, and if they did, they kept looks and words to themselves.

Everyone was dancing to the rhythm of a trance song, but to his ears it was just noise. The boy covered them with the palm of his hands; who in the world thought that adding some gunshots to an already unbearable track would improve it? Considering that he was the only one with a pair of lips twisted in disgust, he guessed that everyone else had to be enjoying the incoming rupture of their eardrums.

It was also true that he could not see any other pair of lips. Men and women alike were convulsing on the dancefloor with masks to hide their faces and virtually no room between each other. The boy found himself squeezed between two pairs of boobs and two emotionless white faces.

_Is this what rich people are up to, now?_

No one noticed him, not even when he shoved masses of warm meat and cloth aside in the desperate search of a spot where breathing meant inhaling fresh air rather than heat and sweat.

_Is everyone here tonight?_

The masked crowd did not scatter. The nightclub was humid and hot. He was not used to being around so many people at once, so many smells at once. Before he knew, the acid feeling of vomit was rising from his throat. The boy forced it down. Puking on someone else's elegant clothing? Might as well tape a _Looking for trouble_ sticker on his own forehead..

In that moment, while his hand was still firmly pressed against his mouth, he saw the masked shape of a woman moving like a robot under the lights. One of her sleeves had fallen to her elbow; a nipple was well visible above the wrinkled fabric.

The woman's feet didn't touch the ground. She was held in place by two men, one behind her and one...

_Ew._

The man in front of her held her thighs in a firm grasp, and thrusted with the brute force of a wild animal. She kept her legs spread and her arms around his neck, resting the back of her head on the other man's shoulder

_Please, get a room you three, this is not-_

He turned around. Right in front of him, a man on his knees with half of his mask lifted so that his mouth was uncovered. A woman with the hem of her skirt between her teeth was pulling his hair. Beside them, the same scene was playing out, but between two men.

_What the fuck is this place?_

Other people kept dancing like hallucinating rabbits, unimpressed by the obscene shows. He refused to believe they did not notice anything, more so when he spotted a group of seven men circled around a girl with her dress torn apart.

The smell was becoming unbearable. The same song played over and over had made him dizzy, the lights burned his eyes.

He had to get out. Fuck the invitation, fuck the exclusive, members only nightclub. Fuck everything! He wasn’t there for-

His back touched someone.

«I'm sorry, but-» as if they could hear him over the pounding speakers.

Two hands, male hands, appeared from the shapeless meat mass and grabbed him by the wrists. A masked woman lifted her shirt; her goal was the zip of his jeans.

Before the boy knew, he was surrounded by at least six people, twelve hands roaming everywhere, touching his legs, chest, belly, sliding into his jeans.

The boy squirmed «Stop it! I don't want this! Get away!» but obviously no one was paying attention to his words. No matter how much he moved or rebelled against them, those hand would not stop. They pressed further, under his shirt, on his neck, his face, nails bit into his hips.

The boy swallowed a lump of saliva and bile that scorched his throat. He bit a finger, it was salty. He thought he tasted blood, but that did not slow down whoever wanted to explore the inside of his mouth. He gagged, spat, tried to scream: nothing. His whole body paralysed, he could not tell if it was someone holding him in place or his muscles refusing to budge.

He shut his eyes, dry from the heat, burning as if tickled with needles.

«Stop.»

A dim light engulfed the whole nightclub, music left and silence took its place. His ears were ringing; for a few moments white patches occluded his sight.

The arms left him, he collapsed to the floor. He heard footsteps walking away. Little by little, the air around him turned cooler. He lay there, motionless except for shivers he could not prevent or stop, even though the room was all but chilly.

«Are you alright?»

A kind voice, a pair of black sneakers coming closer.

_Aren't those... Too small?_

«Of course you're not. What was I thinking.»

_Isn't your voice... Too young to be here?_

He parted his lips to speak. Two tiny fingers brushed against them. It hurt.

«No. I need you to stand up, now. We'll talk later. Can you do that?»

_I don't know..._

«You'll have to. Please. I can't carry you.» was that... Concern? Fear? Both? «We haven't got much time before he comes back!»

_He... Who?_

The boy conjured up all the strength he had left. His muscles were about to tear apart, the skin on his wrists and arms was full of fingertip sized bruises. His vision blackened when he stood up, and a sharp pain stabbed his forehead. Even moving his eyeballs was painful.

When he found the strength to gaze at what was around him, he saw masked men and women standing at a safe distance, looking in his general direction, motionless. Hundreds of expressionless mannequins.

«Quick! Snap out of it!»

The boy lowered his eyes and met a pair of blue irises surrounded by black and white.

He could not have been older than thirteen. The kid was so pale that under the dim lights his skin was white, and his black shirt and jeans did not help him in looking at least alive, if not lively. Nor did the dark circles under those piercing eyes. For some reason, the boy was captivated.

«Please! No time left!» the kid shook the boy's arm.

«Uh... Yes. Yes. I'm coming.»

He smiled. His teeth were pure white «Follow me. Please.» and he took his hand. The boy nodded.

The kid dragged him away from the main door and kept looking behind them, but no one had moved a muscle. The boy shivered. Invisible hands were still running up and down his body, in his clothes. He gagged.

«I know. I'm sorry.»

«Why?» speaking was difficult. He had noticed just now how dry his throat was, how much it hurt.

The kid held his hand tight «This time. I was not late.»

 _Late for what?_ He wanted to ask, but the kid made a sharp turn to the left, where a long corridor ended in a door.

«People use it when they want to go out for a smoke. There's the parking lot, then just trees. If I manage to get you there, you'll be safe. They will not come for you.»

Countless questions spun around the boy's head, but he was not sure he wanted to know the answer to some of them. The most pressing was _Why_ , but something told him he already knew the answer. The one that won a gratifying silver medal was _Who_.

«You said...» he coughed «that we had to be out of here before he arrived.»

«My brother.» the kid did not leave him time to ask. He turned the handle of the door and cold air hit the boy right in the face. He had not realized how sweaty he was until he felt the drops freeze on his forehead.

There was no moon. Apart from a lamplight that illuminated a dozen shining cars, it was dark.

«Well, not my real brother» he turned around one last time before closing the door «We look nothing alike. But he's the only family I've got left, so they sent me to live with him.»

He did not understand. Why was the kid telling him about his family? Why would he care?

The chilly air had woken him, as quickly as the suffocating atmosphere of the nightclub had numbed his senses.

«I see you feel better now.» the kid smiled. The boy bit his lip and avoided his eyes.

«Why would I care about your brother? Why am I here? What were those people do- no, wait. I know that.» he clenched his fists «Why are you helping me?»

They crossed a street and soon the trees swallowed them.

«Don't worry. I know the way. Don't leave my hand.»

«I will not take orders from a kid! What the fuck was happening in there? Why me? Why the fuck would I care about your brother?»

«My brother owns the place. Many people come. Some want a bit more than just casual intercourse with strangers while wearing silly masks.»

«This is sick! I didn’t want any of that! They should’ve stopped!»

«If you get in there, everyone assumes that is the reason you've come. And the loud music does not really help. I'm sorry I could not reach you on time. I was worried. Because... I knew he had something else in mind.»

«I don't understand shit of what you're saying, kid.»

«I'm saying that my brother lures innocent young people upon request of some trustworthy clients. And then they do as they please.»

«That's insane! They were already already doing that! Are you blind?»

«I'm not talking about that. Please. Believe me. I'm trying to save your life.»

«Save my life?»

The kid sighed, in the dark, and hastened the pace «Yes. When I say they can do as they please, it means that my brother has got his ways to make sure the body is never discovered.»

It was like his feet had frozen on the spot.

«What the fuck are you talking about, kid?»

«My brother lured you in with an invitation, then sold your life. Just like with all the others. Please, keep walking. I need to get you into town as soon as possible.»

«Is this some kind of prank? It's not funny!»

The kid's eyes stared at him «Do I look like I'm joking?»

There was a desperate strain in his voice. Either he was telling the truth, or he was really a good actor. The boy's brain ached to believe the latter, but an unpleasant feeling in his gut was pushing him to the opposite direction. The invitation, he was _so sure_ one of the rich popular girls had slipped it into his locker, even when no one looked at him when he showed up at lunch with the unmistakable paper on his tray beside the huge plate of fries.

The fact that he was way too recognisable, the only one in an informal attire and without a mask.

_You were not the only one._

«The man at the entr-!»

The kid grew taller, a full few inches before the boy realised his leg had sunken into a hole in the ground. The kid's eyes widened in surprise as his mouth opened in shock.

The metal trap went off.

Iron teeth bit into the flesh of his calf. The bone shattered. The rest of the boy's body collapsed on glass and dirt.

«No!»

He was about to answer, he _wanted_ to answer, but the pain struck so suddenly that only a desperate cry emerged from his throat.

The leg was burning. Burning. It was on fire! Every movement sent jolts of pain to his brain. He could _hear_ the muscle ripping, bone shards penetrating flesh, blood gushing out, boiling hot. So _thick_.

«Take it off! Take it off! Oh God, please! Take it off!»

Frantic little hands fearlessly ran on the rusty iron. Despite being covered in blood up to his elbows, the kid kept touching the base of the bear trap here and there, searching for a lever to unlock, a button, anything.

The boy fell face down on the grass, unable to even watch the blood spattered kid while his hands were too close to the source of the pain. The soil stank of mold and rotting grass.

_Goddammit it hurts! It hurts! God why did I..._

A sigh escaped from his parted lips, tears began rolling down his face, and fell onto the dirt below.

«FUCKING TAKE IT OFF, ARE YOU RETARDED??»

«I'm trying, I'm trying! Please, just don't scream!»

«HOW DIFFICULT COULD IT BE YOU LITTLE SHIT!? I SHOULD NEVER HAVE TRUSTED YOU!»

«I don't know why the traps are here! Hunting season was not supposed to be-»

«Unless you're referring to a very particular kind of hunt.»

The boy realised someone else had spoken just once the kid had stopped his desperate search. Every movement too painful to even think about sitting up, he tried without success to catch a glimpse of whomever was there with them.

«What did I tell you about ruining the business that puts food into that ungrateful mouth of yours?»

«I'd rather starve!»

The kid resumed his task, but his fingers were trembling and his whole body was overwhelmed by shivers. A slap hit the boy's shin, and a wave of pain reverberated through his leg, his abdomen, eventually hitting his brain. He squirmed and gasped, on the verge of tears again.

«A pity he's broken now. He produces some very fine noises. Ah well, an evening is bound to go awry, once in a while. What's important is that _someone_ learned his lesson, isn't it? You could've hurt yourself and lost a leg. 

«Please... Please » by now, the kid wasn't even trying to unlock the bear trap anymore «Just him. Please. Let him go. I will be good. I will never ruin your evenings anymore. I will never complain about the food and where it comes from. Promise!» 

The boy heard footsteps approaching. A few seconds later, the man he met at the entrance stood above him, he could see his hands at the edge of his vision, one holding a lit cigarette. The boy gasped for air; he wanted to speak but nothing came out. The leg was still burning.

«He'll go to the police and tell them everything, and everything includes you. Would you like to end up in prison with all the bad people and no videogames?»

«Please! I promise!» between sighs and tears, the boy screamed with a voice he did not know he had «I'll just tell the hospital I was stupidly hiking at midnight! I swear! Oh, please... Please let me go!»

The blond man put his hands in the front pocket of his elegant trousers and sighed «That's what they all say when they realise they will not see the sun rise again.»

More pain. As it struck again, the boy's body convulsed between the grass and dirt. New skin was torn, new bone shards penetrated muscle tissue. Blood was once again pouring out.

«What a pity, he'll die soon enough if he keeps bleeding like this. My guests are not going to enjoy him anymore, broken as he is. A terrible waste indeed. You, go back home, lock yourself in and go to bed.»

No answer, but the sound of light footsteps running away.

«Aren't you trying to save me anymore?! You useless kid, you useless...» 

The man's steel toed boot kicked him in the ribs, preventing him from speaking further.

«And you too! You... Fucking monster! Someone will come! Someone will come help me! And then, and then you'll be fucked!»

The man put his boot on the boy's hand, then pressed, like he was putting out a cigarette. The boy screamed even before he heard his own bones shattering.

«At least the others had the decency not to be this damn noisy. A little begging is fine, screams are okay, but insults... Quite an unremarkable and uneducated way to approach one’s own passing.»

«I'm not going to die, I'm not...» he cried. He did not dare to watch what had become of his left hand.

«You will. But I'll allow you to hope so to your heart's content. It's more enjoyable when they're not just waiting to die.»

«Fuck you! You sick bast… you sick…» before he knew it, he was sobbing again.

«Dear, dear, let me have a look at this.» the man exited from his field of vision. The boy heard him stop somewhere he could not see «Those traps are no joke, huh.»

It was like melting iron had been poured inside his leg. The boy screamed, dug the nails of his functioning hand in the soil in a desperate attempt to drag himself away from the pain, not even caring anymore for the bear trap gnawing on his flesh. The bite did not loosen, and he was left in agony, forehead sinking in mud, while the smell of burned skin mixed with blood and moisture.

«Please… Please! I’d do anything…»

A faint laugh escaped the man’s lips «Anything? That’s surprising. No one’s ever said that.»

«Fuck you! Why me? Why not someone else? My school is full of people who deserve the worst! I’ve never done anything to deserve this!»

«Truth is, my judgement is not based on merit. You could be the Saint the world was waiting for, and still end up torn apart by an aroused multitude, if so I desire. Let's say I've got a sixth sense for individuating the ones who could give a satisfying show. If only my little brother hadn't interfered...»

The boy loosened and tightened his grip on dirt and grass, an useless attempt to ease the pain. He could not see what was happening, the state his leg was in, but his imagination filled in the gaps just fine. The cigarette was still there, between torn muscle, bone and sizzling blood. Otherwise, there would have been no explanation for the scorching heat he was feeling.

«I'm sure that the football team whore would have screamed just as fine, I always heard the stupid bitch howl like a fucking jackal, why don't you try with her instead of-OW!»

«Please, don't persuade me to think you somehow deserve this more than you already did.» the man's boot pressed the boy's back and stole his breath «The more innocent and good hearted they seem, the more enjoyable it is to break them, see them devoid of all hope.»

«That's sick... You are sick...» the boy panted, struggling under the pressure of the man's boot.

«That's better. Now stay still, I would not want to cut open a major artery.»

The boy heard the clinking sound of a butterfly knife flipping open, followed by the cold kiss of the blade on his still healthy leg.

«What the fuck?! OUCH! What the fuck are you doing?»

«I told you not to move too much. Now I'll have to deal with blood from this cut, too.»

The sound of cloth ripped apart; just then, when the night breeze grew goosebumps on his skin, the boy realised his jeans had been torn.

«Stay still, okay? A cut right here would be most inconvenient.»

He felt the flat side of the blade brushing against his thigh, then slipping under his pants. A moment later, they too had been torn apart, leaving him completely exposed.

«What? What the hell? What's the meaning of this?»

«Yes, they would really have appreciated you. Not half bad.»

He did not care about the pain anymore,even though it made it difficult to think straight. The boy gathered all his strength and tried to turn around. He failed, miserably, when he remembered the shattered hand would not be able to support his body.

«My, my, what a mess. Not even the most capable surgeon would be able to fix you. Which by the way is not an issue at all, since you won't live long enough to reach a hospital. In fact, if I delay this deed one minute more, I might as well call myself a necrophiliac.»

The boy was laying on the ground, tears in his eyes, his hand sending jolts of pain through his brain. Words reached his ears, but he was not able to grasp their whole meaning. Through cracked lips he tried to breathe, throat sore from all the yelling.

«Why... Why are you doing this... Why don't you just... Leave me here...»

«Business, I'm afraid. The thought of getting my suit dirty to reach an orgasm with an almost corpse isn't particularly appealing to me. But I cannot really let you go to waste. Much like when you force yourself to eat even though you're already stuffed, just so the food won't end up in a garbage bin. I'm sure you understand.»

He didn't, but at that moment he failed to comprehend most of what was going on around him. He almost didn't feel the finger enter his body, followed by another, were it not for the itch the scratches the man's nails left.

«One would tell this is not your first time, at all. But by your reaction, I'm assuming it is.»

The boy clenched his fist. He wished he hasn't understood what the man was about to do, the whole situation was too absurd to be true. He sobbed, his whole body shaking, aching.

«Why... Why me...» he closed his eyes. His will to fight was gone. For what purpose? No one was coming to save him, he couldn't stand up and run, death awaited him in just a matter of minutes, in the middle of nowhere, where nobody would hear him cry. By now, he was just cold from the chilly air and the moisture in the ground that had soiled his shirt. The dry tears on his face were as cold as ice.

Yet, when he first felt the intrusion in his body, the boy screamed. He struggled in agony, like he was being ripped apart again and again with each of the man's thrusts.

«I mean, it would have been nice if you had stayed still.»

The man held his hip firmly with one hand. The other, the boy soon found out, had a strong grip on the butterfly knife. His body collapsed to the ground as soon as the blade was stuck between his ribs.

«I could have had some mercy and offered you a painless death. But you had to make such a fuss until the end, didn't you?»

Blood started pouring out as soon as the knife was pulled out. Boiling hot, almost comforting. The boy coughed, little red drops spilled everywhere. Every breath brought a new kind of pain he didn't know it was possible to feel.

«If you hadn't been so noisy, you may even have enjoyed it. Someone did.»

The boy opened his mouth to speak, but only gasps escaped. Then came a time when he could not even breathe through his nose, so much blood had gathered under his face. Thrusts, shoves, they kept going on. Blood was trailing down his naked thighs, but he could do nothing to stop it, to ease the pain. He did not care anymore. He did not care about thrashing, or struggling anymore.

Somewhere far away he heard the man stand up, tie his belt, play with his knife.

A spark of light illuminated the morning frost. Dawn.

But had dawn always been so dark? Had dawn ever recessed and turned back into the night? No, it could not be.

«I don't want to...»

-

_I don't want to die_

She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. Her cheeks were wet with tears, every muscle of her body felt like it had been torn apart and then reassembled.

«Yes...» the girl smiled «You're a depraved cunt. No turning back now.»

She stumbled to the shower, allowing the flow of the hot water to wash away sweat and fatigue. It was like the cold of the forest still lingered, getting in her own bones.

The girl was eager to answer the questions the usual tablet had for her. But when, now fully dressed and refreshed, she picked up the capacitive pen and looked at it, only one sentence had been typed on the screen.

_Did you like my NPCs?_

 

 


End file.
